


Double Dog Dare

by MelodramaticMrTails



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Come Inflation, Double Penetration, Knotting, M/M, Size Kink, Werewolves, condom play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 14:29:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14499048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodramaticMrTails/pseuds/MelodramaticMrTails
Summary: Clay and Conner maybe have a bit of a thing for one super popular Desmond Miles. Fortunately, said Desmond Miles maybe has a super thing for werewolves.





	Double Dog Dare

This party kind of blows. Clay doesn't often take up Rebecca’s invites to parties but he figured there were free drinks and food. He was correct but these things really don't make up for how bad the company is. _Daniel Cross_ is here. That, by itself, is enough to make any party complete trash. He wouldn't dare approach them in such a crowded place but Clay knows Cross is keeping a close eye on them.

Conner is even more unhappy. The two of them are werewolves, getting drunk takes a lot of effort and the weak beer here is not worth dealing with the taste to scarf enough of it down to get buzzed. They've had a couple shots but consuming a large amount of alcohol in a short amount of time is super suspicious and this party is smaller than anticipated. At least there's pizza.

“We would have been better off buying our own liquor,” Conner comments into his cup. Neither of them are particularly at ease in a crowd but Conner is far more opposed to accidentally being touched than Clay is. The corner they stand in prevents most of it, especially with Clay acting the buffer, but the room is still loud and crowded. Parties are really no place for a werewolf.

“I bet one of these creeps in here has roofies,” Clay replies fleetingly. Conner scoffs in reply. When getting drunk isn't an option, getting high always is. Plus, if they eat the roofies none of the over trusting women here will. A win win all around, really.

“If we leave, Cross is going to follow us,” Conner murmurs. He's probably right but Clay isn't too concerned about it. Cross looks like he's had more than a couple drinks already and losing him in the city should be easy. Clay finishes off his drink, pawing the empty cup off on the nearest surface without thinking about it. He looks to Cross who, unsurprisingly, is already looking in their direction, unashamed and undeterred. Fucking weirdo.

“Wanna push him in the pool?” Clay asks. Conner grins minutely. With little warning, Clay's visual contact with their ‘friend’ is cut by someone getting in front of him- very close to him. He's more surprised than anything and judging by how Conner goes a little stiff beside him, so is he. Desmond fucking Miles is at this party? Since when? Clay knows for a fact that Desmond is way too popular to be at a shitty party like this. The fact that other people have noticed his presence and are now looking at the three of them quite openly is not settling.

“Hey, you're Clay, right?” Desmond says. Desmond is talking to him? He is so ridiculously out of Clay's league, that's for sure. “You're Rebecca’s friend. And Ratonhnhaké:ton?” If he wasn't before, Conner is definitely surprised now. There are not a lot of people that call Conner by his actual name and few that do it so _effortlessly_. Desmond says it like it comes totally natural to him and that really is surprising. Clay exchanges looks with Conner quietly.

“Yeah,” Clay finally says. “You're Desmond? What- did you want something or what?” His initial concern is this is going to turn into a joke on them in some way. For the most part, Conner is popular enough himself to deter anyone from messing with either of them but he has more than a few enemies of his own. Clay isn't sure why Desmond would have a problem with them, though, and he's never been involved with anything particularly malicious in the past. At worse, he's helped play some mean pranks on close friends but that's different.

“No?” Desmond replies curiously. “Rebecca is, uh, ‘busy’ and I don't exactly know anyone else here.” That's because this definitely isn't his kind of party. Why is he even here in the first place? Desmond doesn't know them, either. Clay is very keenly aware that _something_ is going on here and he doesn't like it.

“You just came over to ‘talk’ to us?” he asks skeptically. Conner elbows him in the ribs.

“Uh, it's a party?” Desmond replies, raising his drink a little as if to make his point. “Didn't know it was criminal to mingle. I'll just- go, I guess.”

“No,” Conner says swiftly. “Ignore him.” Rude but understandable, Clay supposes. He isn't _trying_ to push Desmond away, he just finds it suspicious that out of nowhere he wants to talks to them. “Who told you my name?” Not many people exactly know him by his actual name so it's a fair question.

“We're in a history class together?” Desmond replies, a touch bemused. Clay knows the one, it's one of the two classes the three of them take together through some incredible means. “I see your name from time to time on the rooster and stuff. It's unique, you know? Well, obviously it's unique. It, uh, it's Kanien'kehá:ka, right?”

“Yeah,” Conner agrees, a little perplexed himself. He doesn't seem to know what to do with this information or rather the fact that Desmond has this information. Clay arches a brow curiously.

“I don't want to say I'm part Native because that sounds like garbage no matter which way I put it, but like five great grandpas ago on my mother's side was Kanien'kehá:ka,” Desmond explains with a grin. “I don't want to assume but do you speak-?”

Conner replies with something in his native tongue, questioning sounding. Desmond answers in the same. Holy shit. Clay thinks there's a slight difference between claiming he's ‘one sixteenth native’ or whatever and actually speaking the language what sounds to be immensely fluidly. He's never seen Conner so invested in a conversation before. They speak to one another pleasantly and Clay just sort of watches on in both awe and incredibly.

It goes without saying, they both have a crush on Desmond. That's nothing new or surprising, Clay can probably count on one hand the number of people who _don't_. Still, Clay would be the first to admit their attraction to him is based more on the fact that he's fucking gorgeous to look at and otherwise a pretty chill, friendly dude. It has nothing to do with what he's actually like as a person. Conner looks like he might honestly be in love, now.

Which really only goes to show there is a _reason_ everyone gets a crush on him at some point.

“Sorry Clay,” Desmond says suddenly and Clay focuses on the conversation again. “I didn't mean to exclude you.”

“It's fine,” Clay assures waving a hand dismissively. “I'm not the one that's going to stop you from having a nice conversation with Conner.” He's tried a few times to learn a bit of it but it's a difficult language and Conner has little to no patience for teaching it even to Clay. Other resources to learn it are next to nonexistent, unsurprisingly.

“Maybe we could talk more later,” Desmond says instead and Clay is definitely a little jealous that Conner is basically getting a date out of this. Of course, Conner is far less out of Desmond’s league than Clay is so while jealous, he's not necessarily surprised. Besides, he doesn't think Conner would go without offering for Clay to tag along- which he isn't going to do.

“Yeah,” Conner agrees almost immediately. “We should.” They exchange small grins. Desmond makes a content hum as he sips at his drink and takes a minor look around, people who are staring quickly stopping before they're caught. Most people. As it goes, Desmond quite obviously makes solid eye contact with Cross to which he arches a brow before turning back to their little bubble.

“Cross is a freak, don't mind him,” Clay murmurs.

“He's alright,” Desmond replies with a shrug and Clay immediately regrets going so hard on voicing his dislike. “We've worked on a couple projects together.”

“I'm sorry,” Conner says. Clay can't help his snort of a laugh and to his benefit, Desmond smiles a little in amusement.

“He told me you guys are werewolves,” Desmond says. Cross’ mouth is too fucking big for his own good. Clay is going to seriously turn him inside fucking out. There's a brief, but not suspiciously brief, few seconds where neither Clay or Conner says anything. It's a well practiced routine of denial they have mastered purely through necessity.

“You believe in that shit?” Clay finally asks with a snort.

“Non humans?” Desmond replies, still nonchalantly sipping his drink. “Of course. I dated a werewolf for a while.” What? If there's anything Desmond is notorious for, it's everyone getting crush on him and him not dating anyone ever. Finding out that he has, in fact, dated and a _werewolf_ at that, is a little surprising. It also opens up a whole new world of possibilities- including Desmond lying to them.

Has Cross somehow convinced Desmond to try to out them? If it becomes believably known that they're werewolves, forget social suicide, they could be kicked out of campus. Not to mention potentially taken in for ‘assessment’ which honestly, Clay would rather die. Cross has been trying to prove they're non human for months and Desmond- well Desmond is dumb as a bag of rocks sometimes.

“You dated a werewolf?” Conner asks after another much less practiced silence. They're honestly caught off guard this time.

“Yeah?” Desmond agrees. “Obviously I won't say who but we only broke up briefly before college.” So probably someone they don't know. Clay hasn't smelled another werewolf around here in several weeks and when he does, they're usually just passing through. Clearly neither of them know what to do with this. It's definitely a possibility Desmond only dates non humans? There are definitely people out there like that.

Is Desmond a non human? There's honestly no way for Clay to accurately tell, not the way he can tell another werewolf in disguise at least, but it would make sense? Desmond’s natural charm, the fact that he's surprisingly smart for being a dumb shit, the way Clay's seen him move. What could he possibly be, though? Or maybe he is just a human and he is with Cross.

“Is that a problem?” Desmond asks when they don't say anything.

“No,” Clay says swiftly. “Just surprised, I guess. I heard you don't date. Didn't think I'd hear you dated a fucking werewolf.”

“Do you have a problem with non humans?” Desmond asks, his face taking a more displeased and vaguely guarded expression.

“Of course not,” Clay scoffs, crossing his arms more defensively. Conner elbows him again. “I mean, I'm not saying they exist, either. If they did, I wouldn't have a problem with them.” Desmond arches a brow at him, obviously not buying their fairly decent lie. Cross is a dead man.

“Why did Cross try to convince you we are werewolves?” Conner asks curiously.

“He didn't ‘convince’ me,” Desmond assures. “He's, uh, he's really interested in non human stuff. I just asked if he knew about any.” Does Desmond know Cross is a hunter, then? ‘Worked together on a couple projects’ suddenly sounds suspiciously like hunters in arms or at the very least, hunters in competition.

“And the asshole signaled us out?” Clay answers mildly.

“Maybe he should mind his own business,” Conner murmurs. Desmond steps closer to them, immediately making them both tense in uncertainty. He could definitely be a hunter, that also explains the charm and the playing dumb and the skill. If he's bold, unlike the coward Cross, he could definitely try to start something in public. Some hunters gamble way harder than others, normally Clay would say just being signaled out isn't enough to warrant this but he doesn't know what other information Desmond has.

“I always wanted to have a threesome with two werewolves,” he says quietly. Holy shit what the fuck what the fuck. This is a trap, there's no way it's not, but holy shit they're absolutely being propositioned by Desmond fucking Miles- with the implication that he knows they're werewolves and is totally into that. Conner nearly spits out his mouthful of drink. Clay and he exchange looks again, a very rapid and silent conversation.

Do they believe this? Absolutely not. It's more likely Desmond is trying to get them alone and it's totally possible even someone as skilled as Conner and half decently trained like Clay couldn't fend him off. Are they going to risk it because Desmond _fucking_ Miles just offered to have a threesome with them? Abso-fucking-lutely. Trap or not, there's no way they're going to turn down an opportunity like this.

“But,” Desmond says, moving away from them again and finishing off his drink. Clay can feel both his and Conner’s currently nonexistent tails flag. “I guess you're not werewolves.” _Definitely a trap_! Clay wants to get laid too much to really care, however. _Especially_ as a werewolf- sex is much less fun when he can't finish properly. 

“That's- too bad,” Clay assures, lifting his chin a little. “But if that's the weird shit you're into, Conner’ll probably howl for you.” Conner gives him a mild look that Clay doesn't respond to. Desmond laughs a little.

“Tempting,” he says, a faux thoughtfulness to his tone. “Not sure that really does it for me, though.”

“Too bad,” Conner agrees and in a move that is definitely not practiced either, they both grin wolfish teeth. Clay can hear Desmond’s heart skip a beat and the sudden scent of arousal waft off of him. Honestly, that's all he really needs to know this isn't a ‘corner them in an abandoned house and skin them’ thing. Just as quick, they put their teeth away again and Desmond’s face turns a brief shade of pink. Is there something to be said about sleeping with someone who's only into werewolves? Probably. Right now, Clay is pretty sure that ‘something’ is ‘this is awesome’.

“That does,” Desmond murmurs into his empty cup and he exhales deeply. “My apartment isn't far from here if you're interested.” Holy shit this is actually happening. If Desmond really only showed up to this party because he found out they were werewolves and would be here, Clay could honestly die happy. Without any real gesture to follow him, Desmond turns to make his leave. Clay and Conner share another quiet expression of bewilderment at this whole situation. They follow.

Cross following them is largely a non-issue now partially because if he tries to get in their way of this, Clay is going to eat him, and partially because Conner would, too. He doesn't think even someone like Cross is dumb enough to get between two werewolves trying to get their dicks wet with someone like Desmond. Though he doesn't walk particularly quick, soon Desmond leads them away until the party is nothing but a soft hum in the busy New York distance.

Conner sniffs at Desmond faintly as they walk and after a moment, Clay joins him. He obviously smells like the beer he was drinking but not overwhelmingly and definitely not drunk. It honestly seems like he arrived, located them, and immediately made to leave with them, hardly caring of the party or free booze. He also smells like soap, fresh soap, and judging by the lack of fragrance, unscented product. Nonexistent tails wag. Desmond really has dated a werewolf before, hasn't he.

Apparently realising they're sniffing him a little more audibly than necessary, Desmond glances back at them. He grins and Clay feels his heart skip a beat. Honestly, he's never really been attracted to men before but Desmond is the best kind of exception and he's not going to question it. Clay is a little beyond dealing with ‘gay panic’ over wanting to fuck a dude.

True to word, Desmond doesn't live far off. It's a building a lot of students from campus live in but it's also one of the most expensive ones. This both makes Clay curious to find out more about Desmond and immediately aware that the walls are probably a lot thicker than at his and Conner’s place. They take the elevator to the top floor, ever still curious, and Desmond’s scent tems with anticipation as he unlocks his door. He welcomes them both in.

For a brief moment, they linger in the doorway to look around and have a smell for anything particularly dangerous or out of place. Nothing. They're honest to god standing in Desmond’s apartment for a threesome; no traps, no skinning, no hunters. Clay has never loved being a werewolf more than he does right now. Desmond’s apartment is pretty clean, lived in obviously, but seemingly alone. Once properly checked out, they look back to Desmond.

Clay has, unsurprisingly, never been in a threesome before so he's not crystal clear in how this works but he assumes he can figure it out. Desmond looks back at them rather suggestively, not the sexy kind but more like he's waiting for something from them. He wants proof they're actually werewolves, doesn't he? The teeth were certainly enough to get them here but beyond that actual, hard proof is still kind of nerve wracking. In the end, Conner is a little braver than him, unsurprisingly.

Easily throwing caution to the wind, Conner loosens himself more than enough. He lets his teeth out, his ears up, and his claws sharp. With a little shimmy, he pushes down the back of his jeans with a thumb enough to let his long, curled tail free as well. He's never cared for being ‘fluffy’, it's all or nothing for him when it comes to his fur, but this is already damning enough. Conner shakes himself out, righting his bones and fixing his hair.

Another pause. They watch to see what Desmond is going to do, to make sure nothing’s going to jump out of the dark and get them. Clay can hear Desmond’s heart rate increase substantially but the reaction he shows outwardly is mute, smiling with his arms crossed. It’s not predatory but it’s sure, unwavering- dangerous? But in a way that says they might have gotten in a little over their heads sexually as opposed to life-risking wise.

Clay follows suit; teeth, ears, tail, scruff, and nails. Similarly, he shakes himself out to settle himself, the sensation of his bones clicking back into place with such a minor change nothing unusual for him. He’d personally prefer something a little more loose himself but better cautious than sorry, Conner is usually right.

“ _Shit_ ,” Desmond says quietly, his heart absolutely wild in his chest. The smell that comes off of him is potent and heavy, too. “Bedroom’s this way,” he murmurs and he leads them down the hallway, running a hand through his hair as he goes. Conner follows and Clay is right on his heels. His tail wags much more eagerly but there's no denying Conner’s is wagging too. Some things just can't be helped.

The night has gone from a shitty party with shitty people and shitty beer to standing in the bedroom of the most gorgeous man on campus, revealed as werewolves, for a threesome. Clay can hardly complain.

Once in the bedroom, Desmond pulls his shirt off and tosses it aside immediately. Clay looks at the scars on his chest curiously. Huh. Interesting. He can't think of any non humans that can scar in such a way, that's a fairly human thing. Needless to say, neither he or Conner were interested in inadvertently injuring him and they were going to take it easy regardless. Thick hair lines his chest otherwise, leading down into his jeans in an eye catching trail. 

Conner approaches and Desmond grins, pushing a hand against his broad chest to push him to the edge of the bed. He moves between Conner’s legs, resting his hands on the broadness that makes Conner’s shoulders and Conner replies by settling his hands on Desmond’s waist. What starts out as another tentative sniff becomes far more full when Desmond leans into it, encouraging Conner to nuzzle his chest and neck. Clay hastily joins them, coming along behind Desmond and none too bashfully squeezing his firm ass.

Desmond snorts a laugh, tilting his head back into Clay's shoulder as Clay gladly goes about his own sniffing. Without the overwhelming scents products usually hold, Desmond’s natural scent shines through effortlessly. He smells hot and needy. He smells like he'd kill a deer with his bare hands to assure their evening continued. He smells like a yearning he hasn't scratched in ages. Clay's tail wags about as fast as Desmond’s heart beats.

“Do you sleep with every werewolf you meet?” Clay asks, pressing his claws lightly into Desmond’s jeans.

“I was going to say ‘if they're not assholes’ but then I'd have to explain why you're here,” Desmond replies. Clay snorts mildly but judging by Conner’s laugh, this isn't all that undeserved. He bites at the junction of Desmond’s shoulder, immediately making him arch into it with a shuddered sound. “Watch- watch the teeth. Don't bite anywhere someone can see, got it?” That's probably as much for his own benefit as it is theirs. Clay responds by pinching the skin between his shoulder blades in his teeth and getting another pleased twitch for it.

Desmond threads his fingers in Conner’s hair, a small groan in his throat as his chest is lapped and nipped at just the same. The attention is only making him more eager, making absolutely no effort to bother hiding it. This point is only further driven home when Desmond nearly elbows Clay in the stomach trying to get to his knees. Conner’s ears perk immediately, far more expressive than his actual expression, as Desmond goes straight for his fly.

“Oh fuck,” Desmond murmurs in awe, taking a moment just to stare at Conner’s dick. It's certainly quite a lot to take in. Conner’s ears turn back a little as Desmond looks back up at him. “Uh, I'm not actually sure I have any condoms in your size? I knew you were big but-” he trails off. _That's_ his concern? Clay understands not wanting to get caught, sure, and diseases between werewolves and most other people are specifically incompatible, but Desmond doesn't even seem to second guess trying to _fuck_ Conner.

“I have my own,” Conner admits a little reluctantly. This, of course, is not the first time he's had this problem.

“Oh cool,” Desmond replies and that's that, apparently. This is exactly where Desmond gets his reputation for being called ‘dumb’. Conner looks back at Clay like he also expected a different problem and Clay shrugs. If Desmond is into werewolves it goes without saying he's probably a size king- Conner is a little big even for that but obviously Desmond doesn't care.

Clay wags his tail mischievously as Desmond takes his tongue to Conner, stroking and licking his already well erect cock. Conner’s usually well stoney expression crumbles a little and he flinches in place of an emotion he's not fully used to making. Desmond takes the pointed tip between his lips, earning a small growl from Conner in response, and grins. He's clearly got his hands full with Conner, though, so Clay gives him a hand, joining him on the floor and getting a surprised noise from Desmond himself.

Licking at the back of his neck, Clay runs a claw over the inseam of Desmond’s jeans. The tremble he gets in reply is harsh and Desmond closes his eyes briefly in bliss. Clay can feel the sheer heat that radiates from between his legs like he's burning on the inside, the heavy scent of his aroused cunt cutting through his scent sharply. Careful not to actually rip his jeans, Clay works open the button and zipper between his fingers before slowly sliding his hand into his boxers.

Desmond pulls off Conner, tucking his head briefly against his thigh instead, and Conner reaches to pet his head. He lets out a guttural moan as Clay rubs the pad of his finger all too directly against his erect clit before his fingers stray further down to rub at his already slick folds. The piercing he finds, warmed by Desmond’s body, is a little surprising, honestly. 

“These pants,” Desmond murmurs, stroking Conner leisurely in one hand. “Were pretty cheap, you know.” He's really into the _whole_ werewolf thing, isn't he? Clay gladly obliges. Desmond presses his lips against the side of Conner’s cock as Clay withdraws his slick hand again. Without a second thought, digs his claws into the seam of Desmond’s jeans and rips them open easily, sending a sharp jolt across Desmond that leaves him groaning. He ruts his hips back eagerly.

Conner runs his nails through Desmond’s short hair and in reply, Desmond gladly wraps his lips around his cock again. Clay teases with fingers and claws, running them over his skin and leaving raised lines in their wake but nothing more, making Desmond absolutely tremble. He rips his jeans further as he goes and the sound itself seems to get a reaction from him, the denim rubbing against him roughly as Clay pulls. Desmond bobs his head gradually further, utterly undeterred from his task of taking Conner inch after inch. With hardly any effort, Desmond takes Conner’s thick, throbbing cock into his throat and Clay nearly comes there.

Wow. That's- wow.

Something between a growl and a whimper leaves Conner and Desmond slowly pulls off, lips slick with spit and red. He grins. Perhaps reading the situation much better, Conner grabs Desmond by the hips to hoist him up with ease and Desmond bites his lip excitedly, more than happy to be wolfhandled. Desmond manages to keep himself up right fairly well despite having nothing to support himself on except the hands on his waist- the sheer strength he holds in his stomach makes Clay hot in a weird way. Instinctively, Desmond wraps his legs over Conner’s shoulders as he's lifted and Conner sniffs pleasantly at his partially exposed lap.

With his teeth, Conner rips open the front of Desmond’s boxers. Desmond groans deeply, tightening his thighs around Conner’s head as he leans back- and back and further back still. He looks at Clay, upside down now, and arches his back in a tantalizing manner. _Holy shit_ he’s flexible, too. No wonder he can move the way he does. Desmond’s eyes flutter close and he lets out a breathy moan as Conner returns the favor of licking him.

Clay approaches again and Desmond looks up at him briefly before turning his eyes back down to his crotch. He reaches out and Clay certainly isn’t going to stop him, only making a half hearted effort to help Desmond unbutton his jeans in his- unusual position. By the way he quite effortlessly fishes Clay’s cock from out of his boxers, this isn’t a new ordeal for him. Even sitting on the bed, Conner is quite a bit taller and it leaves Desmond to really have to stretch to take Clay’s cock in his mouth, one hand braced on his hip and the other on the base of his dick.

Why is Desmond’s reputation that he doesn’t date and not that he’s really fucking good at sex? That seems like a way better reputation. At this angle, Clay can see way too clearly the bulge in Desmond’s throat as he takes him to the root with ease- or at least more ease than he had Conner, at any rate. Conner’s claws rake against Desmond’s trembling thighs, slick noises of his tongue working determinedly audible over all the panting and heavy breathing. Clay runs his hand, his nails over Desmond’s ribs and stomach slowly, feeling the taut expanse he shows off so freely.

Desmond pops off again, licking his lips as if to prevent any spit from rolling down his face, and he inspects Clay’s cock for a moment.

“Ever orally knotted someone before?” he asks. Has he what now? “Maybe next time. Conner’s a little big for it.” Conner grunts a mild noise of agreement. Clay isn’t sure if it’s the implication of ‘next time’ or ‘oral knotting’ that catches him off guard. Not that he has to think about it much when Desmond takes him back down to the root in a single move. He lets out a growl of his own, closing his eyes briefly as he takes in the sensation of Desmond’s tight throat around him. The angle isn't easy for Desmond move so Clay does him the favour of languidly thrusting against him.

As cliche as it sounds, it's always a little hard for werewolves to know their own strength, even what Conner and Clay consider ‘light’ touches bound to leave bruises on Desmond come morning. If his thrusts are too hard, Desmond makes no complaints about it. In fact, he definitely tries to pull Clay closer by the loops of his jeans but Clay withholds. He's not sure if Desmond is serious about the knotting thing and he doesn't want it to happen accidentally.

Desmond gives his hips a little push and Clay backs off, his hard cock bouncing back to attention immediately and stringing spit and precum to his lips. Conner nips at the inside of Desmond’s thighs as he pulls himself back upright, his face red from many things at this point. He has to catch his breath for a moment, though, grabbing a handful of Conner’s hair to steady himself.

“Okay, I need one of you in me,” Desmond says, out of breath but obviously not energy. He takes one of his legs from off Conner’s shoulder and Conner carefully helps him back to the bed. “Here, lay down.” Clay attentively perks his ears up as Conner moves further back on the bed and Desmond rubs his truly excessively dripping cunt with his fingers. He moves over Conner immediately, straddling his hips and pushing the side of his cock between his hot folds. Clay's tail wags faster.

Desmond ruts against him, biting his lip at the friction he gets. He shudders out a breath as he holds Conner’s cock against his belly, taking in the sheer size of it. Hastily, Conner reaches for his pocket to retrieve a condom that Desmond gladly takes. He holds Conner’s cock in one hand and opens the condom between his teeth before rolling it on. Desmond gives Clay a far too amused look as he lifts himself up on his knees to align the pointed tip to his cunt.

“Easy, okay?” Desmond murmurs and Conner nods shortly. Knowing Conner, he's far too worried about hurting Desmond to even think about it. Clay circles around to see better as Desmond slowly sinks down, the tapered tip going in easy enough but he has to pauses when it gets too thick for him. Conner reaches to rub Desmond’s clit again, teasing the silver piercing there, and his nails are careful but still scraping in a way Desmond obviously adored. He groans as he pushes himself down further.

Clay can see why Desmond wasn't worried about it. He takes it way too easy and there's no way he hasn't done this before. Even as he gets to the thickest part, head lolled to the side, he determinedly pushes his hips down harder to get it in. Conner’s ears are turned back in worry but with how much Desmond is loving this, he doesn't say anything. There's already a noticeable bump on his lean stomach when he finally manages to pop the fat middle inside of him and Desmond sinks the rest of the way down with a sob of a sound.

“ _Jesus_ ,” he rasps out. The outline of Conner’s cock is obscene, throbbing and twitching as Desmond rolls his eyes back. Wow. Desmond rocks his hips, trying to adjust to the new intrusion. He runs a hand over the bump against his belly and down between his legs, tangling his and Conner’s fingers together briefly before stroking where they connect. Again, he groans loudly. Regardless of how stretched he is already, his full weight pressing against the start of Conner’s knot, Desmond tries to work a finger into his wet cunt anyways and, amazingly, manages to work it in alongside Conner. Conner growls hotly.

“Fuck,” Desmond breathes out. “Shit, sorry Clay. I was going to take you and Ratonhnhaké:ton at the same time but, fuck, he's bigger than I expected.” The fact that Desmond really did show up at that party just with the intention of bringing them home still boggles Clay’s mind. Honestly, he's perfectly content to watching, maybe even waiting however long for Conner to finish knotting for a turn.

“Nah, it's fine,” Clay assures, finally stroking his own cock in hand. “Maybe next time.”

“If I stretch better, definitely,” Desmond agrees. That's not actually what Clay meant! _Christ_ , there's no way Desmond would really try to take them both at once, right? There's no way. “You can fuck my ass, if you want. There's some lube in the drawer over there.” Alright, Clay's officially either dreaming or fucking dead. Desmond leans down, now palming the bulge in his stomach, and kisses Conner fondly, the two of the groaning at the sheer sensation of being joined.

“You're quiet,” he murmurs. “Is it good?” Conner nods eagerly.

“Are you alright?” he asks back, drawing his claws over Desmond’s thighs. Desmond laughs.

“God, Ratonhnhaké:ton, do you know how deep I can feel you?” he answers, lifting himself up just a little to thrust back down. “You're so big.” Conner bares his teeth, a rumble of a noise sat in his throat as Desmond leans back in for another kiss. Clay quickly goes for the drawer, finding the bottle stored there. Also unscented. Desmond really wants them to smell him and only him.

“Uh, condoms?” Clay asks. Desmond looks up again as he settles himself in Conner’s lap more comfortably. He braces his hands on Conner’s stomach, using it as leverage to begin moving his hips more fully. Several inches slide out, the thickest part pulling at Desmond’s clenching cunt before he rolls his hips back down again.

“You don't have to use one,” he assures. Clay is definitely being asked to raw Desmond in the ass, okay. He kind of wishes he had told Desmond sooner they were werewolves. “There should be some in the back of that drawer if you want.” And miss out on this potentially once in a lifetime offer? Absolutely not. Desmond picks up the pace, vocally groaning out sweet sounds of pleasure as he fucks himself senseless on Conner’s cock. Conner sure as hell has a will of steel to not grab him and help him out at such a show.

Clay moves in close again and Desmond looks at him with a far too mischievous grin. Joining them on the bed is a little awkward, the three of them probably a little too large for it, but he settles behind Desmond all the same. He nuzzles the back of Desmond’s as he runs his fingers over his belly and down where his soaked cunt clings to Conner so tightly. They both groan deeply. Briefly with his claws, Clay trails little scratches down Desmond’s spine and the small of his back before shifting them back to something more usable.

Again, Clay and Conner exchange incredulous looks at how the evening has turned out. He knew going to that party was a good idea. Conner scoffs loudly, something that seems to make Desmond laugh a little. Clay nips at his back again as he coats his fingers with a fair amount of lube. He revels in the tremor that goes down Desmond’s back as he rubs the pad of his fingers against his ass, slowly sliding one in. _God_ , it's hard to tell if he's tight of if that's just because Conner is huge.

“Fuck,” Desmond rasps out again, impatiently rocking his hips both against Conner and now Clay. “Fuck me.” They're certainly working on it. Clay presses another finger inside him and Desmond takes it easily, like he'd already prepped for this one way or another. The thought of Desmond spending time stretching himself before coming to the party gets an undignified noise from Clay. Everything about this is so fucking hot.

“Come on,” Desmond urges, reaching back to grab Clay's thigh and buck against his fingers. He arches his back briefly before leaning forward again, bracing himself on Conner’s chest as he gets another kiss. If it weren't Desmond doing it, Clay doubts Conner would be putting up so much with another face so close to his. Hastily, Clay pours more lube onto his already leaking cock, stroking it in with one hand while he uses the other to gently tug at Desmond’s rim.

Desmond shimmies his hips impatiently, pulling a moan from himself as he rubs his clit firmly against Conner with the action. Clay rubs the tip of his cock against Desmond’s slick, shiny hole, in all honesty probably teasing himself more than he does Desmond. He pushes in slow but sure, the sheer tightness offering up something of a challenge but Desmond curses in strings of increasingly desperate pleasure all the same. The only thing that stops him from pushing himself back on Clay’s cock is the fact that he's pinned quite effectively between two werewolves.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Clay bites out, pushing his face between Desmond’s shoulder blades as he sits up again. He can definitely feel Conner, hot and throbbing and making Desmond feel a lot tighter than he probably is. This is probably a little gay. Desmond throws his head back in bliss and Clay can smell nothing but his heavy, musky sex scent. They have to just settle for a moment, allowing Desmond to really adjust to everything and for all three of them to catch their breath. The room feels stuffy and hot but Clay can hardly complain.

“ _God_ ,” Desmond groans as he finally begins to move his hips again. “ _Fuck_. This is so hot.” It takes a bit of doing but considering how flexible Desmond is, it's not very hard to figure out how to move with him. Conner holds his waist for leverage as Desmond rides him, shallow, grinding moves that audibly rub him in all the right spots. Clay wraps his arms around Desmond’s chest, biting and nipping the back of his neck as he tries to match his rhythm with little success before giving up completely and just going to town.

It's so weird to feel Conner move with him, every thrust adding the additional pressure of grinding against Conner stuffed full in Desmond’s cunt. Desmond reaches for something to latch onto, unable to decide if he wants to grab at Clay’s arms or dig his fingers into Conner’s chest. His noises are breathless and heated, deteriorating into wet moans with every second.

“Knot me,” Desmond insists. “Please, fuck.” At this point, Clay can't be absolutely sure who Desmond is talking to but he can safely assume it's either of them, no matter how big Conner is. He bites Desmond’s shoulder a little harder, not daring draw blood but definitely getting a guttural groan out of him. “ _Shit_. Ratonhnhaké:ton just- fuck, fuck, just put it in. Please.”

“Desmond,” Conner murmurs unsurely. There's no way he can take more, right? Hurting him is an actual concern no matter how eager Desmond is. And he is. Not for a second does he stop grinding down against Conner’s knot, trying to push it in but lacking the leverage to really manage.

“You're not gonna hurt me,” Desmond promises as if he already knows the issue. Again, Clay has to wonder if Desmond is some sort of super rare form of non human or if he just really doesn't know what humans are capable of. Needless to say, this isn't exactly the most convincing when Desmond is so needy for it. “Please. Shove it in. I want it.” As bad of an idea as that may be, Clay can't say anything because he's pretty sure he would have been knot deep in Desmond an hour ago.

Conner rasps something in Mohawk only to fold his ears back when Desmond laughs, obviously having forgotten they share the tongue. Clay runs his hand down Desmond’s chest, palming Conner’s hard on through his stomach before reaching further down to feel Desmond’s cunt stretched hungrily around the beginning of Conner’s knot. He has to say, he's actually pretty curious if Desmond can even take it, Conner is so deep in him already.

“ _Please_ ,” Desmond begs again. Conner huffs quietly but clearly, his concern has faded with Desmond’s sheer want. He grabs Desmond’s hips in both hands and Desmond bites his lip immediately, heart racing hard enough Clay can feel it through his back. It's definitely a tight fit, Clay can feel Conner’s cock try to squeeze further in as he pulls Desmond down carefully. Desmond is pushing down harder than Conner is pulling, though, and he puts his hands over Conner’s to urge him on.

“It's good, it's good, please, more,” he insists, body shivering with need and anticipation. Conner pulls harder, his nails digging in now and tearing a shocked inhale from Desmond. He comes hard, his whole body tensing briefly as he throws his head forward, hot drool speckling Conner’s belly. Clay groans loudly as he's clenched around and again his teeth find Desmond’s shoulder for purchase.

“Fuck,” Desmond gasps. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, put it in, put it in.” His body loosens again, but he's still so wound up even after his orgasm. Clay can feel Conner’s knot push against Desmond harder, slick and wet from lube and Desmond’s come, trying determinedly to press inside before he knots proper. The shape makes it happen all at once, the second enough pressure is applied to push past the crux, Conner’s knot pops in suddenly. Desmond throws his head back so hard, Clay thinks he might have hurt himself on his shoulder, but he makes no reaction to this.

Again, Desmond comes, gasping for breath and clenching down painfully hard on both of them. The sheer tightness makes Clay wince a little, rutting his hips shallowly in return. Conner arches against the bed, teeth gnarled together and bared for display.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Desmond chants once he actually has enough breath to do so. “ _God, yes_.” He grinds his hips down harder enough to stop it from popping back out from his tightness alone. Clay nuzzles against Desmond’s face, pawing at his stretched cunt with one hand and thigh with the clawed one. Conner lifts his head a little, moving both Desmond and Clay's hands to, presumably, make sure there's not any blood. He runs his hand up, feeling the tightness and heat in Desmond’s stomach with something akin to awe. If Conner has ever knotted someone before, it had to have been another werewolf. This is something else entirely.

“Clay,” Desmond says between breaths. “You, too. Please.” He’s completely insatiable, isn’t he? Clay supposes in order to date a werewolf, that’s not a bad thing, nor to try to invite two of them back home for a threesome. Still, it’s a little surprising.

“Y-yeah,” Clay agrees because if anything, Desmond seems to know exactly what he can take and it is a lot. He rocks forward, wrapping his arms back around Desmond’s ribs for some proper leverage and baring his teeth against his shoulder. Moving is nearly impossible with Conner firmly knotted to him but as needy as Desmond is for it, Clay is eager to give. The thought that it's Desmond _begging_ to be knotted nearly makes him come too soon.

He pushes his hips forward firmly, doing his best not to squeeze Desmond too hard in the process as he tries to work the last bit of his semi-swollen cock into Desmond’s much too tight ass. Desmond urges him on with arousing moans and smells and impatient rocks of the hips that don't get him far. Clay is careful with how hard he pushes, trying to only use as much force as necessary but when Desmond never voices pain, he doesn't back down.

A firm, rough thrust finally drives the soft bump of his knot in with a satisfying pop. Clay rasps out a harsh noise, the immense tightness gripping him even more now. There's an awkwardness, having to fight for space with Conner, but it's far from unpleasant. He can feel Conner’s cock throb hotly as his knot begins to swell to its more final size, ensuring it won't slip out. Desmond tenses again with his third orgasm and in its aftermath, he pants in exhaustion. Only after does he finally seem to limp a little, slouching forward with weak, ever hungry groans.

Clay's own knot swells as his orgasm catches. It feels like Desmond is trying to wring him dry already.

“ _God_ ,” Desmond exhales, leaning forward on Conner’s chest. He laughs a little. “I love werewolves.” Clay loves being a werewolf, honestly. He does have to wonder if this is a one time thing. Desmond mentioned a ‘next time’ and while Clay isn't going to hold him to that, he feels this is a good foot in the door to actually knowing Desmond. Maybe next time they can go on a date first.

Conner definitely looks tired himself, laying back on the bed with his ears relaxed and his face a quiet sort of amusement. Clay can't say this was particularly demanding physically but it was, still is fairly, very intense. Desmond sits up again, somehow finding even more strength, and he looks down at his stomach. While Conner’s cock made a very sizable bump, the soft little distention where he's literally being packed with cum is a little more noticable.

“You're in my _womb_ ,” Desmond says with a breathy laugh. That sounds- yeah, no, Clay has no idea how humans work. He's not a human why should he care? Conner reaches up to gently touch Desmond as well, marveling at how deep he is. “You guys are awesome.”

“You're the one that just took two knots but whatever you say,” Clay assures. He gets another laugh for this and Desmond turns back enough to give Clay a chaste little kiss as well. His tail has gotten the workout of the century. Carefully, Desmond maneuvers himself so he can lay on Conner’s chest and with a few awkward leg movements and some exchanged growls, Clay manages to settle himself on Desmond’s back. They're going to be stuck here for a good chunk of time especially considering they're wedged more than usual.

Unsurprisingly, Desmond is content to laying still while Clay and Conner lick him into affectionate oblivion post knotting. Already dark spots are blooming across his skin from touches and bites harder than either of them meant to. There's a couple perhaps a little too ‘in sight’ but nothing intentional and hopefully nothing too conspicuous. He usually wears hoodies, anyways.

“Is this a one time thing?” Conner asks, not only much braver than Clay but much more direct. In some weird twist of events, Clay is usually the impulse control in this friendship. Desmond awkwardly doesn't say anything for a few seconds, instead just faintly scratching his nails on Conner’s chest with his face tucked out of sight.

“I dunno,” he admits with a deep sigh. “I don't exactly know you guys very well.”

“You could,” Clay offers. Desmond snorts a laugh.

“What, you want to play twenty questions while we're knotted together?” he replies. Clay huffs back irritatedly.

“I think he was implying a date at a later time,” Conner says. Again, Desmond is quiet for quite a while.

“One of you wants to date me?” he asks. That's- a good point. Clay had just sort of inherently assumed he and Conner were in this together. Judging by the look they exchange over Desmond, Conner had obviously assumed this, too.

“One?” Conner replies with a perplexed head tilt. Desmond laughs again.

“You _both_ want to date me,” he corrects. “I'm not really- I don't really do the dating thing anymore.” Perhaps his reputation sticks to him for a reason. He mentioned dating before college but admittedly, Clay isn't sure how long Desmond’s been attending here or for what. At least a couple years, maybe since he was nineteen though. Having dated a werewolf and this fetish for werewolves and their violence and years of time sounds like- Desmond might have gotten over something in a weird way.

“Yeah, okay,” Desmond says, leaving them not to have to say anything. “I'll give you guys a chance, what the fuck. I'm not promising anything but you two seem okay.” Clay and Conner’s tails wap together as they wag. They lick at him some more and eventually, Desmond nods off, of course. It's a little uncomfortable, still somewhere between partially clothed and fully clothed between the three of them, and Clay's position in particular is a little awkward to rest in, but inevitably he and Conner doze off as well.

Clay awakens to his ass vibrating. With a grumpy yawn, he reaches for his phone to check the less than important message Rebecca has sent him; boo you whore. She's the one that wandered off first to fuck her boyfriend. He tucks his phone away again before carefully sitting up. His knot has substantially gone down and with an easy, careful tug, he manages to free himself. Desmond groans quietly, more out of soreness this time than anything else. As he wakes up, so does Conner.

“Fuck,” Desmond murmurs, reaching back to tentatively stroke himself. Thin cum runs down his thigh and Clay has to make an honest effort not to get aroused again. “I love knotting but fuck.” Clay moves back, sitting at the edge of the bed and hastily tucking his cock away before going about licking himself back into order. He watches as Desmond slowly lifts himself up, Conner holding his waist to assure he stays up, and lets his soft knot slide out of his stretched, gaping cunt. A shudder goes down his back.

“Shit, grab it,” Desmond murmurs and Clay curiously peeks over to see what's happening. Conner keeps a hold of the base of the condom, having all but disappeared when he knotted Desmond, but the rubber is more interested in stretching as Desmond tries to pull off. “Don't break it.” Werewolf condoms are amazing and a little horrifying. That being said, they're really not for _this_ in particular.

With some shimmying and tugging, Desmond manages to get himself off Conner’s cock but the condom remains- as does the softball sized bump in his belly. Conner, fairly, seems a little alarmed. Clay perks his ears interestedly as Desmond takes the base of the condom and ties it off. He huffs a little laugh, carefully rubbing his soaked cunt between his fingers.

“This is either really hot or really weird,” Desmond comments, only aiding to get Clay's attention more. He sits back on his palm, legs crooked over Conner’s hips, and gently pulls at the condom. _Holy shit_. Desmond flutters his eyes closed and presses his lips in careful concentration as he slowly pulls it out without busting it. His breathing is shuddered and he arches his back with the conflicting feelings of ‘good’ and ‘sore’. He pulls it out with a quiet laugh though, relaxing more thoroughly once done.

Both, Clay's gonna have to say that's weirdly hot.

Desmond drops the condom less than carefully beside the bed and stretches himself out briefly, allowing his tight joints and muscles some much needed flexing. Promptly, he lays himself back down against Conner’s chest and Conner stiffens faintly before relaxing into the contact. This leaves a slight space beside them that, obviously, is intended for Clay. Not one to argue with that, Clay settles into the bed more fully, letting out a satisfied huff as he finally relaxes into a better position.

“No offense,” Clay murmurs. “Don't talk to Cross anymore.” Desmond snorts a laugh but he doesn't answer, reaching over to stroke Clay’s chest idly. Unsurprisingly, he goes back to sleep shortly after.

“Did we get a date with Desmond Miles?” Conner asks quietly.

“I- yeah?” Clay agrees, just as bemused. That's definitely a thing they did. Conner offers his fist which Clay bumps with his own. “Nice.” Conner grunts in agreement.


End file.
